Father and Son
by KroganVanguard
Summary: Castle talks through some of his feelings and worries at the end of the day further with Beckett. A somewhat angsty one-shot post-ep for 'Deep Cover' (6x12) that ends on a fluffy/sexy note.


She comes home to a quiet loft. The easy elation of setting a date at the precinct has worn off thanks to the cascade of paperwork she'd had to with not one but two unsolved deaths filed, the truth tapdanced around to protect her future father-in-law and, more importantly, her fiancé. Martha's obviously out, seeking solace in the company of her own friends more likely, but as she steps out of her heels and pads softly across the floor, she can see his silhouette at his desk, leafing quietly through a book.

"Hey, Castle."

He looks up and smiles at her, but it is a little worn, a little sad around the edges. It makes her heart clench, because she rarely sees him smile at her without the full force of the joy and love he holds, the radiance that makes her light up as if he's the sun to her flower.

He holds up a worn, dog-eared copy of _Casino Royale_ in his hand as she walks over, settling herself against the edge of the desk, letting her hand trail over he forearm and then squeezing his hand with hers, silently lending her support.

"It's not the first one I ever owned. Lost that moving out from college to my first apartment I think, or maybe the move after that. But I keep a few copies around, and this is the oldest one I have here." He gently smooths the cover, an old pulp style lurid visage of Bond holding a gun, with thick fingers, head bowed as he looks down at it.

"I've noticed. Trained detective remember. I think we have at least 5 copies scattered around our home. I figured the book was very important to you when I noticed that."

There isn't any admonishment, or even any teasing in her voice. She makes sure he hears the acceptance above all else.

"Yeah. It's the book that got me into writing, and then when I learned…that he was the one that gave me first ever copy last year it felt even more special. Is that strange?" He looks back up at her, and there are all sorts of questions in his eyes, ones she knows she can't even come close to tackling, and ones that will burn inside him for the rest of his life.

"No, it isn't. It means as much to you as it means to you, and the rest of us can't judge it- certainly not me. I grew up knowing and loving both my parents. I can't imagine how tough it was for you not knowing who your dad was for so many years, and then readjusting to finding out his identity now."

"I kinda got used to it, had it all squared away I thought. Then Paris last year…"

He puts the book down quite deliberately, then moves takes her hands in his, tugging her down till she's sitting in his lap, his lips seeking hers out, the kiss gentle as she relaxes into him, her arms finding their favourite place to rest on his shoulders and linked around his neck.

"Hey, no one expects you to have it sorted out easily. Least of all me, with my own firsthand knowledge of parental baggage." She lets her forehead rest against his for a moment, tips of their noses touching, just basking in the gentle contact.

"You know, I remember you called me 'famously fatherless' once. Back in our early days- we were working on that case with the baseball player." He leans back and meets her gaze as he speaks, and they separate, but she keeps holding onto his hands.

"Cano Vega." She remembers the body still lying on the mound, the championship ring glinting in the dark.

"Yeah. Around that time, Alexis was doing a class project on genealogy, and she asked me if it bothered me that I never knew who he was. I told her no, because I could imagine he was anybody, and that fantasy had a lot of its own power…"

He trails off, eyes vague and looking over her shoulder, lost in the memory. She holds still, letting him get comfortable, turn the words over in his head till he finds the right ones. That's how he opens up to her- nervously, diffidently. She's learned that about him, learned when to push and when to let him come to her of his own accord.

Instead of speaking, he gently eases them off the chair. She can tell he's retreating again, for now, but he'll come back out. She trusts that he will, for the same reason she backed his play with Hunt, the same reason she didn't get angry when she learned he had kept Hunt's involvement from her. He'll work his way through this in his head, and articulate it for her afterwards.

"C'mon, I'll heat up dinner for us. You go get changed, take a shower if you want."

* * *

He's quiet during dinner. Pensive. He's rarely like this, and usually only around her, and sometimes his mother and daughter. He lets the gregarious, charming jokester façade slip, or puts it down for a rest.

"There was a time, back when I was a kid, when I really wanted to know who my father was. That's all I wanted in life. And I was so angry with my mother she couldn't answer the one question that burned away at me."

She doesn't say anything, just extends a hand and lets her thumb rub of the back of his wrist in comfort.

"Then I sort of got used to it. The idea that I didn't know who he was, so he could be anybody…an astronaut, a foreign prince or even a CIA spy." The irony glints in his eyes, wintery blue and dark.

"I just thought, a little mistakenly, that there was this part of my family out there somewhere in the wild blue yonder. And then Sophia brought him up, and it just niggled away at the back of my head, you know? I'd catch myself thinking about it at the oddest times, wondering if she was just playing me one last time or if she'd told the truth in that moment to try and hurt me."

He takes a quick sip of wine. She continues to rest her hand against his, keeping up the touch and the contact between them.

"After Paris, I was almost giddy, you know? I know we didn't talk about it much then, because I was really just trying to process it myself. That I'd met my dad, that I could put a face to him. That he was the guy who'd contributed half my genes. I felt I knew myself better for knowing him. It's stupid."

She folds her fingers around the edge of his hand, squeezing slightly.

"No, not stupid. Totally normal."

"You think?"

"I know." She gives her voice an edge of steel, the belief he doesn't quite have in himself, the belief she lends him in this moment. Her strength as his.

"I never thought I'd see him again, after Paris. I had so many questions, thousands of them really, and all I wanted to see him again so I could ask him. Talk to him. Learn more about him, and learn more about myself." His eyes drop, neck bowing as his voice becomes whispery. "And then this mess. This is what he does. This is who is. Someone who likes the hunt, and the kill."

"Yes." He needs to come to terms with this, with the reality of it. There's no point sugar-coating that.

"I always wanted to know, and I now I know. And I'd rather not. I'd rather return to the bliss of ignorance."

"No, Castle, you wouldn't." Her thumb brushes along his knuckles, and he looks up at her after she voices her disagreement.

"Working with you, being with you, knowing you over the last five years, I've come to love and appreciate the fact out of the two of us, you're always the one to confront the truth and deal with it, no matter how painful it is, much more so than me."

"I don't-"

"No, wait, babe. Hear me out. Ultimately the truth will hurt you a lot less in the long run once you've come to terms with it. Yeah, he's your father, but you were raised by your mother to be the wonderful, kind, generous…"

"…ruggedly handsome…"

"…sometimes irritating man I fell in love with. His influence on you only goes as far as you let it." She gets up, planting a kiss on his forehead and ruffling his hair before picking up their plates. "But you know it is far better to know than to wonder for the rest of your life, don't you?"

"I guess, yeah." His tone is still a little bowed, a little bent, but ultimately accepting.

"I know that the knowledge can feel like a double-edged sword, that it can weigh on you at night. But ultimately he's been less present in your life than Meredith has been in Alexis's. And look how different those two are, hair colour apart. Because you raised her to be different."

"That's true."

She's at the sink now, washing up their small amount of used dishes by hand, and he slides in behind her, pressing his body to her, his lips finding the side of her neck as his hands grip her hips with slight possessive edge she finds so damn hot.

"What did I ever do to deserve you, Katherine Houghton Beckett?" He whispers into her skin, and she can't help herself from grinding back against him.

"Stuck around while I was being an idiot. Saved my life a few times. Got me to fall for you."

"Thank you. For understanding. I'm sorry I lied."

He brushes his fingers through the locks of her hair, and then drifts them to one side, focusing his attention on the back of her neck, finding her weak spots, one by one till the pit of her stomach starts heating up and her knees start buckling.

"This is…ahh, a good way to. Um…apologise."

The words are little hard to find now that one of his hands is working up inside her shirt, and the other is curled around her abdomen, pulling her flush against him. The heat of his body, the evidence of his own desire clear and pressed thick against her rear.

The sponge and soap and dishes are forgotten quickly, as she whips herself around, face to face so she can kiss him, hook up leg around his thigh and stretch herself up to meet him, kissing him fiercely.

He picks her up almost one-handed, broad fingers cupping her as she clings on with her arms around his neck. His biceps flex, setting her nerves thrumming throughout her body, tempting her to stretch out and lick them. She controls herself, just about.

She doesn't manage to five minutes later when they're in bed and naked. He laughs but the resulting bout of sex is epic and mindblowing.

Later, his arms curled around her as they drift off into sleep, he whispers into her ear.

"I love you Kate Beckett. Can't wait to be married to you."

"Love you too, and me either."

It's been a long and stressful day, but that's just about the most perfect ending she could've wished for. And she's gotten it.

* * *

_A/N: I know it is a bit dialogue heavy, but I really thought there was a lot of interesting character development potential for Castle that was left off the table at the end of ep, and I really wanted to explore it a bit more. The scene at the end at the precinct was cute, but left quite a few unanswered questions, for Castle especially I thought, given his chequered past. He'd be so much more interesting on the show if they brought some of these layers to the fore. _

_Not sure if the story "works" completely, but leave a note with your thoughts anyway. _


End file.
